I hope you enjoy this sneak peak into my psyche.
When I was a child, my parents were pretty good about going on vacations with us. I remember getting so excited about going on vacation that the thought alone of going was as fun as the vacation itself. At nine years old my parents planned a trip to San Diego. This trip was awesome. It had everything; camping on the beach, Sea World, a day trip to Tijuana. It truly was about to be a memorable family vacation. At this point in my childhood I was well aware of this “excited about going” thing and this time I took it a step further; I knew that as much as I loved the thought of going on vacation, I hated the thought of returning from a vacation. If you’ve stuck with me thus far, you’re in for a treat. Here’s the sneak peak I warned you about. On our way out the door to this “Memorable San Diego Vacation” I actually left my future-self a note that read:
“Ha! Ha! Brantley. I still get to go on vacation and yours is over.”
Lets all take a moment to appreciate just how messed up I was as a child…
What was I thinking?
I guess that’s the point, I wasn’t thinking. I came home from a great vacation, depressed, only walk into my room see the note. I, of course, crumpled it up and threw it against the wall.
My point here isn’t just to let the world know how strange I was as a child; I also learned something, but not until 16 years later.
After college, I decided it was time to live a little healthier so I chose jogging. You’ve seen us out there, sweaty pink faces with the look of disgust, gasping for air while we stomp around a track. For some reason, I felt that if I was going to get healthy that this would be my exercise of choice (God only knows why.)
On my first run, I ran from 20th Street to the Capitol Steps (about 8 blocks.) And on my walk back (I was really out of shape) I remember feeling pretty good about myself. “That wasn’t so bad. The thought of running was actually worse than the event itself…. And now… I feel really good.”
Then, on that walk back something clicked. San Diego, the note, the positive anticipation, the negative afterwards. Everything happened back then for a reason, to teach me this strange simple philosophy about myself. I have this ability to communicate back and forth with my future-self. The me that is about to experience something can talk to the me afterwards.
I began to consult my future-self before a jog that I didn’t want to go on. Future me would say something like, “Go. Run. I promise you’ll be glad you did.” And he was always right. Every time. I always was glad I did.
At 25, I began using my future-self as a guide through some of life’s difficult challenges. My future self turned my paralyzing fear of public speaking into one of my biggest professional assets. Before a big presentation I’d hear, “Brantley, you were just the most interesting part of this audiences day. Good job, they needed that.”
I overcame my fear of heights by skydiving with my future wife, “You did it. You didn’t die. Your girlfriend thinks you’re super cool. Oh yeah, you also had fun.”
My future-self also kept me out of trouble. Brantley jobless, homeless, in jail, Lung Cancer Brantley, Drug-addict Brantley… for being so messed up, these “Brantley’s” gave me incredible advice, “What’s your excuse? Great family. Great friends. Pretty Smart. You’re better than this. Move on. Don’t become like me.”
These days, I have a constant dialogue with my future-self about everything big and small. He encourages me to have those difficult conversations, take care of boring chores, eat healthier (Yesterday I ignored him when he said, “Don’t eat that entire footlong sub, you’ll be sorry.” And once again, he was right.)
Maybe this is what people mean when they say God spoke to me. It seems silly to think that God would take time out of his busy day to remind me not eat too much sandwich, but then again who knows where I’d be without him. One thing I know for sure, I’m going to keep listening, he’s never been wrong. Not once.
Oh yeah… One more thing. as much as I don't always listen, I’ll never laugh at him again.
